


It's Strange (So Strange)

by StupidGenius



Series: The Addams' Side of the Family [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Are Twins, Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Growing Up Together, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Slice of Life, Witch Stiles Stilinski, and a few people not mentioned, kind of, mentioned less in this one than in the first one, more like slices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: “M’nota little baby.” Stiles huffs. His feet can’t touch the floor where he’s sitting, legs swinging back and forth. “I’m eight years old.”“Yeah? Well I’m twelve. I’m a big kid now.” He flashes his eyes for emphasis. Stiles doesn’t look impressed.“You’re not a big kid. Cousin Wednesday says you can’t be a big kid until you’re a teen. You’re not a teen.”“I am too a big kid!”---a prequel toSeason of the Witch. Of course, i'd love for you to read the first one, but its not necessary to understand this one.





	It's Strange (So Strange)

**Author's Note:**

> Each ‘section’ is from a year in Derek’s life (give or take a few where i thought nothing interesting might have happened, starting from when he was twelve years old. So, the first one is when he was 12, the next when he was 13, then 14… all the way up to the moment just before the start of [Season of the Witch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483752).
> 
> I guess it would be more accurate to say you don't need to read Season of a Witch _before_ reading this one. The ending might be a bit confusing if you don't read that one eventually.

“So...” Derek draws the word out, not totally sure what he should do right now. Of course mom would stick him with a little baby. “what kind of name is Stiles?” he blurts.

Stiles just shrugs.

_Derek’s not sure what to expect when mom wakes him up that morning and tells him that they’re going to meet the Pack’s new emissary._

_The Stilinskis are_ definitely _not it._

_Their house is huge, and kind of creepy, end even Derek’s prepubescent wolf ears and can pick up on the weird murmuring and scratching coming from the graveyard near the house. The door opens before mom can knock, and some strange science experiment of a man greets them with a series of grunts.  And then a woman shows up._

_She’s just as pretty as mom is, though it’s a different kind of pretty. She’s pale, and tall, with kind brown eyes and moles on her skin. The only thing she’s wearing is a long, flowy black dress. Her hair looks ridiculously soft, and Derek kind of wants to touch it. That’s not really considered socially acceptable though, he knows, so he keeps his hands to himself._

_A little boy comes up to her, and he’s just as pale and pretty (since when does he even consider boys pretty?), so he must be her son. He’s also barefoot, like his mother, which is stupid, because even Derek feels cold and he’s a werewolf._

_“ _Stiles, this is Derek." The woman says. "Talia's son. Derek, this is my youngest, Stiles."__

_Stiles rolls his eyes and crosses skinny little arms over his chest. "Ally and I are twins, mommy."_

_"Why are you wearing all black?" Derek asks. He’d think they were going to funeral if he saw them on the street. Who wears all black if they’re not going to a funeral?_

_"All my clothes are black so don't have to do separate loads when I do my laundry." Stiles says. "Duh." Like_ _Derek’s_ _the weird one, somehow._

_"It also goes with everything." The lady says. Mom smiles._

_At least, since mom doesn’t seem to think they’re dangerous or anything, Derek can try and force himself to relax._

_“M’hijo, why don’t you go and play in Stiles’ room?” Mom asks._

_Um, what?_

_“He looks Cora’s age.” He whines. “Why can’t I sit in the meeting with you and Laura?”_

Well. She didn’t tell him why he couldn’t, and it looks like she never will. Because here he is, with a little baby, in a little baby’s room.

“M’ _not_ a little baby.” Stiles huffs. His feet can’t touch the floor where he’s sitting, legs swinging back and forth. “I’m eight years old.”

“Yeah? Well I’m twelve. I’m a big kid now.” He flashes his eyes for emphasis. Stiles doesn’t look impressed.

“You’re not a big kid. Cousin Wednesday says you can’t be a big kid until you’re a teen. You’re not a teen.”

“I am too a big kid!”

“Whatever.” Stiles hums. He jumps off the chair and goes over to the other side of the room, which smells a lot more like someone else. He and his twin sister must share the room. He can’t imagine what it would be like sharing his room with one of his sisters. Gross.

Stiles opens a big brown chest sitting at the corner of the room and pulls out a DVD case and something black (unsurprising)

“What are you doing?” Derek asks.

“D’you like teen titans?” Stiles says, totally ignoring Derek’s question (rude).

“I guess?”

“Cool.” He takes the stuff and plops himself down on the floor right next to where Derek’s standing, leaning back against his bed. When he waves a hand, the TV turns on, the DVD coming out of the case on its own and going to the DVD player. He’s never seen anything like it before. The Stilinskis seem to be less like something bad and a lot more like…Matilda?

“Wow. That’s – hey!” His eyes are watering. His nose stings, and there’s nothing he can do about it because he has no idea where this _smell_ is coming from. “What is that?!”

“What’s what?” Stiles glances up.

“That’s smell?”

“Oh. My nail polish?” He frowns. “Is it bad?”

“It’s burning me!” An exaggeration, but who cares.

“Really?” he closes the bottle, and it gets bit better. “Sorry. Are you allergic?”

“No.” Derek snaps.

So he’s kind of angry. Anyone would be. “I’m a werewolf. We have a better sense of smell that normal people. It just hurts my nose.”

“That’s cool.”

Is that the only word he knows?

“So you’re like Beast Boy.” Stiles continues, pointing at the TV screen. “you can turn into an animal.”

“Not just like him.” Derek admits, sliding down to the floor so they’re sitting next to each other.

“Cause you’re not green.” Stiles grins. He’s missing a tooth.

“And I can only turn into a wolf. I’m a were _wolf_ , not a shapeshifter. They’re different.” And then, to make a point, “dummy.”

“I’m not a dummy.” Stiles elbows him in the side, though it doesn’t really hurt. He’s boney, but too small and not nearly as strong as Derek.  “I’m really smart. Mom and all my teachers say so. You’re the dummy.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah you are!”

And when their moms come up to get them later, they’re still arguing about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mrs. Stilinski is their Emissary for a year before she comes over one day and says she can’t do it anymore.

She comes with another woman, pale as paper with long, shiny black hair and lips the color of blood. This lady calls herself Morticia, and Peter thinks it’s funny, for some reason.

Derek overhears them talking, though he’s not supposed to. He hears Mrs. Stilinski telling mom about her dying magic, and how there’s something wrong with her and we won’t be able to protect them or their territory for much longer, and part of him doesn’t want to believe it. Because this is Ally and Stiles’ mom, and she’s nice, and she doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.

“…it’s called frontotemporal dementia.” She says. “I got the diagnosis a few months ago. I should have told you, but I thought I could find a way to fix it. But…magic can’t help me right now, Talia. I’ve tried everything.”

“Oh, Claudia.”

“The children don’t know yet.” She sounds like she’s about to cry. “But they probably suspect. Especially Stiles. Morticia and I have made his training more…intense. He’s the next best option to take over for me after I’m gone.”

“He’s just a boy.” Mom says softly. “I’d never expect him to take on such a huge responsibility, especially after losing –”

“I know, I know.” Claudia interrupts. “And he can’t officially become your emissary until he’s twenty-one. But. You need someone to protect you and your pack, and Stiles is – well. He’s very advanced.”

Derek imagines little Stiles doing what Mrs. Stilinski does for them. Imagines him taking on the strain of upgrading the wards around the house. Of putting up shields against dark magic. Imagines tiny, skinny Stiles, nearly passing out after a fight, blood dripping out his nose and skin white as paper like Mrs. Stilinski’s was after the most recent fight with a witch that thought she had claim over their territory.

He doesn’t want that.

He can’t let that happen.

“You know it’s not a good idea to eavesdrop on your Alpha’s confidential meetings.” A voice behind him says. He jumps, whirling around.

“Uncle Peter.” He gets out. Peter has his arms crossed over his chest, a both disapproving and upset look on his face. Maddie is asleep in his arms, curly black hair totally covering her face. “I was just –”

“I know you heard everything.”

“What? No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” Peter runs a finger a cross his cheek. “You’re crying.”

Oh.

He hadn’t noticed that.

“They don’t deserve this.” He blurts out. “They’re – they’re nice. Papá said nice people don’t deserve bad things, so why are Stilinskis – why?”

Maddie startles when Peter moves, hair falling back to reveal glowing gold eyes. She makes a face.

“Ay, _coñ_ \- um. Darn.” Peter looks between them.

His crying one year old daughter and his crying thirteen-year-old nephew.

Probably not what he thought would be happening today. Derek looks away, trying to calm himself down. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying right now. He never cries (right. So that’s a lie, but a lie he believes, okay?).

“Derek.” Peter calls.

“I’m fine.” He mumbles.

“No you’re not. You just found out a member of your pack is dying. You’re not fine.” Peter sighs. “go to your room. We’ll talk about this later.”

But they didn’t.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Claudia Stilinski dies a few days after the magic in the protective wards around the house run out.

Derek doesn’t remember much about the funeral itself. But he does remember after. He remembers Stiles and Allison, sitting on their couch, Allison crying silently while Stiles coughed and gasped and sobbed. He remembers their dad saying Stiles was sick, and that it never happened before. He remembers Stiles sucking in air and never letting any out, terrible noises coming out of him, like he was drowning. He remembers holding him.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a pretty well-known fact that puberty is terrible.

It’s a lot less known that werewolf puberty is actually worse. Of course, the werewolves know this. The adult ones. They know it and they don’t tell their kids until it’s too late. And then they laugh about it.

“What the fuck.” Derek blinks at his reflection. “What the fuck is this?”

“Aw.” Laura runs a hand under her eyes. He glares at her. “You look so cute.”

“You look uglier than usual, somehow.” Cora tells him.

Wonderful.

“I hate you.” He doesn’t mean to growl it, but he does. He runs his hands through the dark, patchy, ridiculous looking clusters of hair on either side of his face. His claws are longer and darker than they were the last full moon, now that he thinks about it. He huffs, and it comes out like a rumble. “What the fu-uck.”

Oh god.

Not now.

This can’t be happening.

“Aw!” Laura repeats. She doesn’t look like a normal person when they say that. She looks like she’s the actual devil.

Now would be really great time for the floor to open up and _swallow him whole_.

“What’s happening?” Malia asks.

Ah, yes. Because it wasn’t enough that his sisters are here to witness this.

His cousin is here as well.

“Derek’s voice is disagreeing with him.” Cora quips.

“Unfortunate.”

“Shut up!” he snaps.

“Where’d your eyebrows go, baby brother?” Laura laughs. He narrows his eyes at them in the mirror.

Holy shit. They are lighter than usual.

“I don’t wanna look like Peter when I’m old.” He moans. “Why did this have to happen now? Why couldn’t this happen earlier?”

It’s totally unfair that were boys hit puberty so much later.  It was enough that he started freshman year looking like he was still 13 years old. But now, suddenly, halfway through second semester, his body has decided it’s time to become a man? Just like that? His traitorous body has decided that now is the best time for all the worst parts of werewolf puberty to happen? This couldn’t happen, like, over the summer, maybe?

Okay, well. His voice had actually been cracking for the past few months, though this last week has been particularly bad.

“Oh man,” Laura laughs, “the next year is gonna suck for you, bro.”

“At least you can take comfort in the fact that you have Hale genes, which means you’ll inevitably turn out to be just as attractive as your parents are.” Malia says, deadpan, like that’s something normal twelve-year-olds say to people, let alone their cousins.

“Thanks Mal.” He says.

Because that _is_ somewhat reassuring.

“De nada.” She shrugs, grabbing Cora’s shampoo out of the shower. “Papi always says you’ll grow into your ears.”

“You actually – wait, what?”

Whatever.

He ignores Cora and Laura’s teasing as he attempts to get ready for school, but it all proves to be difficult when he can’t get himself out of the partial shift. He tears his jeans trying to get into them, rips his shirt to ribbons, and his claws get stuck in his backpack.

“Ay, m’hijo, just miss school.” Mom sighs. She turns his face a bit in her hands, a small smile on her lips. “My baby’s growing up.”

“ _Mamá_! I can’t miss school today, I have a test review and I can’t miss it!”

Well, that.

And Paige promised to help him study.

Not that his mom needs to know that part.

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow.

The trick to lying to werewolf is telling the truth. And, so, the truth: He has a test review today. Also the truth: he believes he can’t miss it. The fact that the guide with the answers will be posted online is irrelevant to the current situation.

He nods.

“Alright then. We still have thirty minutes before school. I think Stiles might be able to help you with this, at least temporarily.” Mom sighs, rubbing his hair.

And this is how he ends up sitting in Stiles’ bedroom, glaring a hole in the wall, with Stiles nearly falling over he’s laughing so hard.

“Oh my god I can’t breathe.” He wheezes. Derek growls.

“Can you fix me or not.”

“I don’t know,” his laughs finally start to die down, “I’m gonna have to leave you like this if it means you’ll start visiting more.”

“I’m here all the time, Stiles.” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes. Stiles’ face does something he’s never really seen it do before, and it makes him feel… _guilty_? What?

“Nuh-uh. You _used to_ be here all the time. But now you’re in high school and becoming a real man or whatever, and you don’t have time for little kids who aren’t even in middle school yet.’ Stiles turns away, though Derek can see his cheeks are almost red. “Whatever. It’s fine. But you totally missed when I found my familiar, by the way.”

Oh.

The familiar (Derek had smelled the cat the second he walked into the house, though he wasn’t sure why it was there) pops it’s head out from under the blanket next to Derek. It’s a kitten, eyes still blue like a newborn.

“No.” Derek sighs. “Stiles, it’s – it’s not fine. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much.”

“I get it. You’ve got, you know. Stuff.” He waves his hands in a gesture that is probably supposed to represent all the ‘stuff’ Derek has got.

“Stiles.” He says. He waits until Stiles is looking at least in the general area of his face.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna be around more. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through one of his hairy cheeks. “Now, can you try and fix this? Please?”

“Yeah.” Stiles bites his lip, eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Okay. Hold still.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He could have gone his whole life without knowing what it’s like to watch the light go out of someone’s eyes.

Especially not hers.

Paige Matthews was different. She was special.

She wasn’t like the other people at school. She was smart. She played the cello. She had a dry sense of humor he adored. And Derek, afraid to lose her, had got it into his head that the only way to really, truly be with her, and to have her accept what he was, was for him to have her turned.

The blame for that line of thinking is entirely on an Alpha named Ennis.

Not that he believes that. But everyone else knows.

“La maté, mamá.” He whispers, eyes squeezed shut. “Soy un monstruo. A monster. I killed her, I –”

“Oh, hijo. No, no, No digas eso. You’re not a monster. You did what anyone would have done. What _I_ would have done.”

“But my eyes.” He swallows thickly. “They – they’re –”

“Déjame ver.” She says, hands and words gentle. He sucks in a breath, whole body trembling as he slowly opens his eyes, letting them flash the way they normally would. He can see the faint blue glow at the edges of his vision. The glow that used to be gold. “¿Sabes que yo veo?”

“¿Qué?”

“Beautiful eyes. Como un rayo.” She smiles. “I love them.”

“Mamá –”

“I love you, Derek. No matter the color of your eyes. And everyone else does to, ¿Entiendes?”

He closes his eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles has other friends aside from Derek.

Though, Allison doesn’t count, because she’s his sister. And Lydia. She, um. She’s more Allison’s than Stiles’. So, Stiles has another _friend_ aside Derek.

His name is Scott McCall.

Derek hasn’t had many conversations with him, though, aside from the few times their time with Stiles as overlapped and that one time they tired to figure out exactly _which_ Spanish was being taught in ‘Spanish’ classes.

Anyway.

The point is, Derek and Scott do not talk. Stiles is the only thirteen-year-old he’d ever want to consider his friend (okay. Best friend), no matter how ‘cool’ Scott is. So, it would make sense Derek doesn’t really know much about him. Which is why he didn’t know about the asthma until now.

“Stiles?” he hears from his room. He sits up.

“I need to talk to Talia.” Stiles says – pants, really. Like he’s out of breath. “Now.”

“Did you run here?” Laura asks.

“Stiles?” Derek calls. When he stops at the top of the stairs, he sees that Stiles did run here, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, his cheeks blotchy red.

“I need to talk to your mom.” He repeats. The lights flicker. “Where is she?”

“She’s at work. She won’t be back for another half hour. What is it?” Laura frowns. “Is this…Pack business?” She asks, standing up straighter. Her eyes flash orange.

“No.” Stiles shakes his head. “Yes? I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Derek asks, finally coming down the steps. Stiles sucks in a breath.

“It’s Scott.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. His nail polish is chipped. “he’s, um. He’s in the hospital.”

“Did something attack? Is there something –”

“No. No, no, he’s in the hospital because he had an asthma attack.”

Oh.

“…Okay.” Laura nods slowly. He looks like she’s waiting to hear the rest of the sentence, though judging by Stiles’ equally expectant look, that was the whole thing.

“Okay, _so_ , I need to talk to your mom. Call her.”

“Why?”

“So she can bite him.” Stiles says, like it’s that simple.

“What? Are you insane? The Hale pack hasn’t just bitten someone since our father, and that was only because he married mom. We can’t just –”

“I don’t care!’ Stiles throws his hands out and the bulb in the lamp nearest to him shatters. “I don’t care about whatever weird prejudice you have against bitten wolves or how long it’s been since the Hale pack had a bitten wolf or any of that other crap, because my best friend is dying! I was laying there with him in his bed and then he just – he couldn’t breathe and then he stopped breathing and now he’s in the hospital, and I didn’t see a future for a human Scott anymore. I saw another funeral. And I don’t want that, because I’ve had enough death, thank you. So – so just call your mom so she can bite him, for me, please, because I c-can’t. I can’t –” He cuts off when a familiar black cat windless around his legs, meowing loudly, and then he makes that _noise_. That familiar gasping, choking noise from three years ago, and things _float_. His heart beats loud and fast, and Derek swears it sounds like it’s right in his ear.

“Okay, okay,” Laura says, almost running into the library. “I’m calling her. Right now. Derek, you – help him.”

He’s not really sure how to do that.

He hasn’t been able to have a good conversation with anyone in a while, let alone comfort someone who so obviously needs it. But this _Stiles_.

So he tries.

He tries to maybe get closer to Stiles, wrap his arms around him like he did years ago, get him to make reign in his magic a little. But Stiles stumbles back into the wall, and Binx hisses at him.

“Don’t – don’t touch.”

“Okay. Um. It’s gonna be okay.” He promises. “Laura’s gonna call mom. Scott’s gonna be okay.”

Stiles makes another gasping sound.

“Don’t – don’t t-talk to me like that.” He wheezes. Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

 _Gasp_. “Like I’m a-a small animal you f-found and brought to Deaton.”

“I read you’re supposed to speak in a soothing voice when you do this.”

“Wh-when you do what?”

“Try and talk someone down from an anxiety attack. Or something.”

Apparently all Derek had to do was say that exact sentence to calm him down, because Stiles blinks at him, finally relaxing a bit.

“You don’t just read that somewhere. You looked it up.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Derek huffs. “We’ve been friends for five years. I care about you. I looked it up because I know you get them and I want to help you.”

Stiles turns away, his cheeks going pink – probably from the panic.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.”

“Stiles,” Laura comes back out, keys in her hand, “I called mom. She said she’ll meet us at the hospital. And she has to talk to Scott’s mom.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Stiles.” Derek sighs. “I know you’re in there. The hallway closet isn’t soundproofed, you know.”

“Go away.” Stiles mumbles.

“This is my house.” He reminds him. Next to him, Binx meows pitifully and reaches up to dig his claws into Derek’s pant leg. It’s very clear what this is about, and why Stiles is being so ridiculous. “I know you’re upset, but it’s not forever. I’ll come back, eventually. You know I will.”

“You swear?” Stiles asks. Derek huffs.

“I swear. Now, can you come out, please?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to come out of the closet.” Stiles says, almost under his breath, and Derek rolls his eyes as the door opens. Stiles grew a bit over the summer, so he reaches up to Derek’s shoulder now. The sudden growth spurt left him looking even more thin and gangly than before, added to the fact that he’s so damn pale, and it’s no wonder Peter calls him a walking skeleton. Despite the fact that he’s one of the most powerful witches in America, and maybe the whole world, Derek’s still kind of worried someone dangerous will get too close and kill stiles with one swift blow.

Not that he ever voices that fear.

“College is stupid.” Stiles grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t need it.”

“I have to go. It’s supposed to…help me figure out what I want to do, or something.”

“Why do you have to do something? You could just spend the rest of your life here, in the house. Our families have money, dude, you’ll never have to lift a finger.”

That’s true.

“Mom says I need a career. Something I like.” Except, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like anything. He’s good at math, but he doesn’t like it. And he really doesn’t see himself sitting in an office doing someone else’s taxes.

“But why do you have to go all the way to _New York_ to do that?” Stiles huffs, shoulder going up to his ears. He refuses to actually look at Derek, a tell-tale sign that he’s really upset with him about this. When they were younger, it used to mean he should consider sleeping with one eye open for a few nights, or else something unsavory might end up in his bed with him. As they got older, it meant long bouts of silence (typically a few days long) on Stiles’ part, and angry glares across the dinner table. Young teens usually aren’t scary, but when said young teen has the ability to make frogs cover your bedroom floor in the dead of the night via magic, they’re a little scary.

“Because I got a scholarship. And…” he sighs. “I want to get out of town for a while. Explore. I’ll always come back, Stiles.”

“You say that now, but –” he points an accusing finger at Derek’s chest. “Something could – could make you stay. Something could be interesting over there, more interesting than this town, and your family, and _me_ , and then –”

“I doubt I’ll find anything or anybody over there more interesting than you.” He says softly. Binx purrs and rubs himself against Derek’s foot. “Doubt there are many goth witch boys who can see the future, are related to the Addams’, _and_ like teen titans in New York. Probably not many in the whole world. And it’s too bad, because those are my favorite kinds of people.”

“M’ not a goth.” Stiles mumbles, cheeks pink. Derek laughs and ruffles his hair.

“Sure you aren’t. Now, you gonna help me pack or what?”

“You don’t actually need my help packing. You just want my magic to pack for you while we play video games.” Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek grins.

“Well, yeah.”

“I’m a powerful witch, Derek. Im going to be a high Priest. This is beneath me.” But he grabs the controls off the shelf anyway, Derek’s clothes folding themselves before landing in his suitcase.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s Scott’s.” Is the first thing Stiles says when Derek accepts the video call.

“Of course. You don’t own color.” Derek manages to get out.

A pretty defining trait of Stiles’ is that he hasn’t worn color a day in his life. No one really counts the rich, deep blood red he occasionally wears as color. Claudia had always dressed him in monochrome – specifically, _black_ clothes – since he was born, and since she died, he has continued to dress that way. It was something that came from the Addams in them, Derek realizes. And he’s got no problem with it. It’s just who Stiles is. Which makes the fact that he’s wearing nothing but color so weird.

He’s in Scott’s ridiculous bright red hoodie and a baby blue t-shirt, and there’s dirt smudged on his face. He looks like he spent his day rolling around in the preserve, which, if he knows Scott, that’s totally what they did

“Mine got wet.” He leans back.  “Did you know you had an evil water spirit in the lake behind your house? Because I didn’t. She’s not to fond of witches.”

“What?” Derek frowns.

“Yeah. She, like, grabbed me and pulled me down. Allison saved me though, so, it’s all good. But dad was at work and the only clothes that fit me in your house are Peter’s and Cora’s, so you can see why I would have chosen to go to Scott’s instead.”

He nods, and then sits up straight.

“Wait. She pulled you down?” He almost growls. Stiles looks away.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Stiles!” He feels – he’s not really sure. Panic? But Stiles is safe. He’s okay. Obviously, he’d have to be okay to be video chatting with Derek right now. But his chest still feels tight and uncomfortable. What he _really_ wants to have Stiles actually, physically in front of him, so he can make sure he’s okay with his own two eyes. “And you’re just telling me this _now_? At –” he glances at the time “at 1 am?!”

“To be fair, it’s 11 pm here. Dad would never let me stay up past 12 on a school night, you know that.” Stiles winces. “I just – It’s not that big a deal, okay? I knew you’d be busy studying for yo0ur big test next week, and I didn’t want to bother you. I’m fine, dude.”

“Except you almost weren’t!” He snaps. “You almost drowned, apparently, and you didn’t want to tell me because I was _studying_?

“It’s not like you could do anything from all the way across the country!” Stiles snaps right back. “And, like I said, I’m fine! I’m one of the most powerful witches is the whole damn country, it’s not like I couldn’t have defended myself. I made it out okay all on my own. No need to disturb you.”

Derek actually does growl this time.

“It doesn’t matter where I am. I want to know what happens to you, whatever it is. No matter how ‘unimportant’ it is, because chances are, it’s probably super fucking important and you’re just lying about it because you think you’re somehow being a bother. You’re family, understand?” he sighs. “You’re important. To me.”

It’s silent for a second, and he almost thinks the screen froze, but then he sees Binx hop off the bed in the background. Stiles blinks at him. his shoulders slum.

“Fine. Whatever. Next time something happens, I’ll tell you.”

“You promise?” He raises his eyebrows. Stiles’ nose scrunches up.

“I’m not five years old, Derek.”

“Say it.”

“Ugh!” Stiles throws his hands up. “Fine, fine, I promise or whatever.” He looks off to side, away from the camera, and Derek can see a bruise on the side of his neck. A few, actually, like…finger prints. The spirit tried to _choke_ him. That feeling in his chest intensifies.

“Stiles –”

“My dad is here! And he brought me clothes!” Stiles grins at the camera. The sheriff steps into view, looking both worried and relieved. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Are you talking to me or the clothes?’ Mr. Stilinski sighs. “Hey Derek. Stiles is gonna have to go now, if you don’t mind.”

“But dad –”

“No problem.” Derek smiles. “Good to see you, sir.”

“You too, son. And, for the billionth time, call me John.” He turns to Stiles. “Come one kiddo, time to go. You can always call him tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Bye, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” He huffs. The screen goes black.

The feeling doesn’t leave him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek’s not sure what, exactly, happened. What lead to this.

Maybe it was the two new additions to the Pack that had to take first priority. Maybe it was all the magic training Stiles had to be sent away for, conveniently, while Derek was in town. Whatever it is doesn’t really matter th0ough, because none of those reasons are a good enough excuse. It’s the morning after Derek’s twenty-second birthday, and it hits him like a ton of bricks that he hasn’t seen Stiles.

Not in a few days. A few weeks. A few months. Derek hasn’t seen Stiles – _in person_ – in three years.

With that realization comes the realization that that _thing_ in the back of his mind, that empty feeling he couldn’t place every time he was with his pack – it’s Stiles.

They aren’t as close as they used to be.

It’s a horrible thing to realize the day after your birthday. A day that just so happens to be Christmas. Even more horrible when he remembers he can’t just go up to the Stilinski estate and knock on the door and hug the crap out of him. because Stiles is spending his christmas in Poland with his mother’s side of the family, so Derek will have to settle for calling him on the phone. Again.

It’s not the same.

Stiles was his best friend. And they’re still close but it’s not – it’s just _not the same_.

“Hey Derek.”

“Oh.” He blinks a few times. It’s not a surprise he hadn’t heard Allison enter – stealth is her specialty “Hey.”

“Stiles wanted me to give this to you yesterday, but I forgot.” She lifts the package in her hands. “Your birthday present. He’s pretty upset he can’t be here to give it to you himself, but this trip was pretty important. More training.” She sounds just as upset as he is that her brother isn’t there with them right now.

“It’s okay.” He lies. “I get it.” And he does.

Doesn’t mean it’s okay.

“You two haven’t gotten the chance to see each other in a while, haven’t you?” She sits down on the edge of the couch, package set carefully on the end table.

“I guess not.”

“I don’t think I could stand being away from my anchor so long, if I was you. If I was _either_ of you.”

“You – what?” He frowns. “I’m – I’m not…”

He’s not surprised she knows Stiles is his anchor. Stiles has been his anchor for a while now, and Allison is very perceptive – a trait she picked up from both her parents. But Derek being…there’s just no way. Does Stiles even need a n anchor? And if he did need one, wouldn’t it be his mother? Or just his family in general? Or _Scott_? There’s no way it would be _Derek_ , of all people. That doesn’t make any sense.

“You are.” She says. He stares at her.

“Why?”

“A lot of things. I think…I think it’s because of how you treat him, maybe.” She picks at something on her skirt. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but a lot of our family treats him – well, different than everyone else. Once he turns twenty-one, he’ll be the official head of the family. I know you don’t know much about witch politics, but Stiles is pretty much our Alpha. And our family being the most powerful in the US, he’s actually the alpha for, like, fifty other families. It’s a lot of pressure to put on a17 year old. People treat him like he has the answers to everything, ever since he was 10, and…you haven’t.” She looks up at him. “Sure, Scott is his best friend, and Scott doesn’t really treat him like that either, but…you’re more than that. Something like family. You’re special.”

Oh.

“Oh.” Derek gets out.

He’s not really sure what to say. He never considered how Stiles’ abilities affected his relationships with others – the Hale pack has never treated him like how Allison’s describing.

“Don’t tell him I told you all this.” She asks. “it’s – stiles talks a lot, you know, but it’s rarely about anything that actually matters. He’s pretty private.”

“Yeah.” Derek clears his throat. “Yeah, uh. I know. I wont tell him.”

“Good.” She smiles. “I should get going. Lydia, um.” She blushes. “She asked me out yesterday. I said yes.”

He resists the urge to yell “ _finally_!” like he wants to, and smiles back.

“I’m happy for you. Go have fun.”

“Yeah. Okay. Cool.” She dimples at him. it’s a feature of their mother’s that Stiles never got. They like to joke that Allison got those and he got everything else. “Don’t forget to open you gift.” She says on her way out.

The package is light when he grabs it. He can’t really sniff out what’s inside, but he’s guessing that’s what the funky rune on the top of the box is for. He pops a claw and slices through the tape before opening it.

Inside – under all the paper – is a small wooden wolf, and Derek knows instantly that Stiles made it. Something like electricity goes through him when he picks it up, and it warms in his palm. Under it, there’s a note.

_Little wolf for my Sour Wolf._

_Sorry I can’t be there._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cora graduates High School today.

And so does Stiles.

Derek hadn’t gotten the chance to see him before, since he missed his earlier flight and had to catch another one. He’d gotten there just in time to sit down as they started calling names. Mr. Stilinski claps him on the shoulder when he sits down beside him, and then students start walking across the stage. He fiddles with his phone until Boyd walks across the stage. Then Cora, Scott, Erica. Mom radiates pride, having three other betas and her own daughter up on the stage.

Derek almost misses when Stiles walks across the stage. If it wasn’t for the whoop Mr. Stilinski lets out, or the ‘Allison Stilinski’ right before it, he might have missed him.

Stiles has changed.

Stiles has changed _a lot_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The familiar rumble of an old, hideous blue jeep comes from outside the door, and for a moment, Derek thinks he imagined it. Because it can’t be, right? He left for college a month ago. He’s supposed to be in New Orleans, getting a degree in business and completing his studies in ancestral magics. There are no holidays coming up, no breaks. So that must mean Derek is hearing things.

“I know you guys heard us!” Stiles calls. Derek blinks.

“They’re werewolves. You don’t have to shout.” Allison huffs.

“Obviously, I have to, since no one come bounding out the door to greet us the second they heard our car.” He knocks on the door. “I see your car, asshole!”

“Derek.” Peter stares at him expectantly, and that’s when he remembers – he’s closest to the door. He should have answered it already.

“Right.” He doesn’t know why this is messing him up so much. It’s just Stiles.

Stiles, who beams at him when he opens the door and practically throws himself into Derek’s arms. Derek gets lost in his scent for a moment, nothing but magic and joy and pure _Stiles_ filling his senses.

“You’d think they’ve been apart for years instead of months.” He only faintly registers Peter saying.

“I know, right?” Allison sighs.

“I’m an affection dude, Ally.” Stiles laughs. He un tangle himself from Derek’s grip and adjusts the beanie on his head.

“That thing looks ridiculous.” Derek tells him. because it does. “You look like a hipster. And here I was thinking you’d always be a goth.”

“Okay, first of all? I’m not goth, and you know this, because I’ve said it a billion times already, I’m sure. And I’m also not a hipster. It’s just a convenient way to hide the mess that is my hair right now.”

“Because it’s so easy for a buzz cut to get messed up?” he raises an eyebrow. Allison nudges Stiles, and he glares at her.

“I’m growing my hair out.” He mumbles. “For – magical reasons. It looks dumb.” He shakes his head. “Anyway. That’s not important. What’s important is, we’re back!”

“Why _are_ you back?” Peter narrows his eyes.

“We’ve dropped out of college.” Ally says. Stiles nods.

“Wasn’t for us.”

“No, it wasn’t for _you_.” She rolls her eyes. “And I came back with you because it’s boring without you. And, besides, who’s gonna help you run Mom’s shop if I’m away at college?” She glances at Derek. “Reopening mom’s shop is the only reason we came back, if our dad or your parents ask.” She pauses. “That, and the vampires. But don’t tell them that part.”

“Vampires?” Derek frowns.

“Long story short, they’re assholes. It was expected. I’ll tell you all about it later, big guy.” He takes a breath. “Man, am I glad to be home.”

Home.

Stiles thinks of the Hale house as home. It makes something warm and light settle in Derek’s chest, and he resists the urge to wrap himself around him again. Peter gives him a knowing look, which is – uncalled for, really. Peter doesn’t know anything, because Derek doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know what this is, and he doesn’t want to find out. Not yet. He’s not…not ready.

“It’s good to have you back.” He finally says, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. Stiles smiles, soft and small, cheeks pink.

“Feels good to be back. I missed you.” He coughs, cheeks going from pink to blotchy red. “I mean. The pack, yeah? All of you. I missed all of you. Get into any trouble while your favorite Stilinski twins were gone?”

He thinks back to the pixies from last week.

“It’s probably best you didn’t know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_"I knew." Paige coughs. Black slime spills out her mouth, her nose, the bite in her side. Derek whines, the most animal sound he’s let himself make around her._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Right after I told you my name... I think I knew. I've seen things in this town before, things no one really could explain. And then there's the way that you talk... How you say things, like how you'd 'catch a scent.' And I know you can hear things, things that no one else can hear. I knew." She whispers. He takes a breath._

_"And you still liked me?" that question is the whole reason they’re in this mess in the first place. Because Ennis convinced him that she wouldn’t like him anymore. That no one would like him._

_She puts a slime covered and on his cheek, pained smile on her lips, and he can’t hold back the sob._

_"I_ loved _you."_

“Derek.”

Stiles’ voice brings him back to the present. He looks up from the box he’d been staring at on the floor. His claws are digging into the meat of his palms, blood dripping down onto the new carpet.

“You’re hurting yourself.” He says softly, rushing over. He takes a hand – gently, like Derek might break. Like he’s not a 200-pound werewolf, like he’s already _broken_ – and slowly opens it, conjuring a towel and wiping the blood away. He does the same to the other hand in silence, face expressionless.

“I’ll heal.” Derek gets out, once Stiles is done. That earns him a look.

“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to hurt yourself.” He sighs. “I…you were thinking about her, weren’t you?”

He knows what day it is today.

It’s been eight years.

“You weren’t this bad last year. What happened?” He continues.

“I saw her mom.” His throat feels tight. “I saw her…I saw her mom in the store, buying flowers. Roses. They were her favorite.”

“Derek –”

“And she saw me.” He closes his eyes. “And she still blames me.”

“It wasn’t your fault and you know it.” Stiles says forcefully. “What happened to Paige…it wasn’t your fault, and there was nothing you could to prevent it. It doesn’t matter what her mom thinks, because Ennis was going to go after her whether she was with you or not. He wanted to shake the Hale pack.”

“If I hadn’t brought her to the warehouse –”

“He would have gone after someone else!”

“Peter warned me not to date a human and I did it anyway.” Derek snaps. “His wife was killed because she was human in the wrong place and wrong time, and the same thing happened to page because I loved her!”

“What happened to both of them happened because of stupid hunters and werewolves trying to hurt our pack.” Stiles grabs his hand. “Hey. Look at me.”

He glares resolutely at the wall in front of him, but Stiles is persistent. He puts a hand on either side of Derek’s face, and there it is again. That jolt of electricity.

“You can’t live your life in fear of loving someone just because of what might happen to them. You deserve to have someone. You deserve _love_.” He licks his lips. They’re so close. “You…you’re _amazing_. I…”

Stiles’ heart is beating a mile a minute in his ear, and suddenly, this conversation doesn’t seem like it’s about what today is anymore, or Mrs. Matthews. The hands slip off his face as Stiles takes a step back, turns around, and busies himself with slowly unpacking the rest of Derek’s books.

“Stiles.” He croaks. His voice cracks.

Stiles pauses.

“Derek.” His voice is clipped. Guarded. “I shouldn’t have…now isn’t the time.”

"Stiles." Derek says softly. That finally gets him to face him. "What were you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say...I do not love lightly, Derek." Stiles whispers. "Like, at all. I fall in love fast and hard, and it's stupid and terrible but that's what I do." He closes his eyes. "S-so, if you do this with me, you have to be in this for the long haul. Because I don't know what I'd do if you decided that I'm not worth -" the warm feeling in his chest he’s spent the last few years trying to place starts up again, warmer and brighter than before.

"You will always be worth it." Derek interrupts. "And I don't exactly do the casual dating thing either, you know."

"Does that mean what I think it does?"

"It means...you're it for me." Derek admits. Stiles grins.

"Really?"

"Absolutely." He winds an arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him in, and Stiles shakes his head.

“No, no – today is so stressful for you, I don’t want – I don’t want to be a – a regret, okay. I don’t want you to kiss me now because I’m telling you you’re amazing and that I love you and–”

“I love you to.” He blurts. Stiles blinks.

“Oh. Um.” He turns a shade of red Derek doesn’t have a name for. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

“So if, uh. If I were to kiss you right now…that would be A-Okay, then.”

“More than.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The day Stiles gets his first tattoo of many is the day his eyes start to glow silver.

It’s also the day he moves in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So.” Laura nudges his shoulder with hers.

“So?”

“When’s the wedding?” She wags her eyebrows, and Derek pushes her away, careful to keep his coffee from spilling on the sidewalk. “Hey! It’s a valid question, alright? Everyone already knows you’re Mat- ”

“Don’t! Don’t say it.” He holds up a finger, and she rolls her eyes.

“Saying it or not saying it won’t make it any less or more true, Der. You two are officially Mates, and soon enough, there’s going to be a wedding. And if there isn’t, Mom will have your head.”

“I just…it’s not the right time yet, okay? When I ask him, it has to be perfect. And I have to have the perfect ring.” He looks away, because he doesn’t want to know whatever’s going on with his sister’s face right now. She slaps his shoulder.

“You’re going ring shopping already?! Without me or the girls?! Shame on you, baby brother.”

“Stopping calling me –” his phone starts ringing in his pocket, ‘Season of the Witch’ playing just loud enough for them to hear it over the sounds of cars and people passing by. Derek smiles softly at the picture of Stiles on the screen. He remembers how happy he felt that full moon, Stiles running with his pack and carrying his youngest cousin on his shoulders. He answers the phone.

“Hey, Laura and I are almost there, are you done setting up– ”

“Someone’s in the shop.” Stiles whispers. Derek freezes.

“What?”

“Someone’s in the shop. My book – it’s open, there’s a page missing.” He sounds frantic. “Derek, I think.”

The line goes dead. It feels like ice in his veins.

“He’s in trouble.” Laura grabs his arm, tugging him forward. Her eyes are already shining  gold, claws poking his skin. “Derek, come on!”

“I…” he blinks. She frowns, letting his arm go. “Yeah, just. What were we talking about again?”

She puts a hand on her hip.

“We were talking about how _you_ , little bro, need to find –”

"Laura," he rolls his eyes, "for the last time, I don't need a girlfriend."

"How about -" she starts.

"I don't need a boyfriend either. I don't need anyone. Drop it."

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me, Dominican family, for my Spanish writing is truly atrocious. It's like i barely speak the language.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/). Come cry over Stiles with me.
> 
> Want me to write anything? [Send me a prompt](http://stupidgenius.tumblr.com/ask).


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